


this was never mine to have

by disgruntled_lesbian



Series: please give zuko a hug [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Intimacy, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Pining, Post-Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntled_lesbian/pseuds/disgruntled_lesbian
Summary: sokka reaches out, his hand moving the hair covering zuko’s face. zuko closes his eye, focusing on his breath as sokka traces the scar with gentle fingertips. there’s not much feeling left in that part of his face, but he can feel faint pressure where sokka’s fingers are. zuko’s not sure when he starts crying, but he’s shaking under sokka’s gaze.[traumatized zuko getting a little of the love he deserves]
Relationships: Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: please give zuko a hug [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784050
Comments: 79
Kudos: 2928





	this was never mine to have

when zuko dreams, he dreams of smoke and flesh and of the rock of the ocean waves. he misses uncle, misses the sounds of the ocean, misses --

when he wakes up, zuko is cold and damp. he feels off balance, but knows he _can’t can’t can’t_ let it show. his stomach grumbles, and he curls into a ball. zuko remembers his father’s voice, now mixed with katara’s disdain: 

_“if you can’t be bothered to get your lazy butt up here for breakfast, you doesn’t get any;” a reminder that food is earned, never given to disappointments like him. he remembers drifting in the northern sea, lying through his teeth to uncle so he’d eat the fish zuko managed to catch, a desperate attempt to keep uncle alive. he remembers being a fugitive, pushing food at uncle, nibbling and rearranging his plate again and again. he remembers fluffing the rice so his bowl looks full, avoiding looking uncle in the eye as they eat. uncle didn’t deserve to starve, he’s only in exile because of zuko. he remembers being given more food than he’s ever seen in his life when he returned to his father’s side in glory, and how he was sick for days._

the sun is hidden behind clouds, but it feels like hours since he -- _agni, he’d spoken to hakoda as if -- agni, agni --_ he can’t breathe, buries his head in his hands. he knows, _knows_ that hakoda said he wouldn’t hurt sokka, wouldn’t hurt him, but what if -- no, adults are never to be trusted and _he can’t he can’t he can’t_ \-- all he can see is fire and bruises and burns and -- 

“hey buddy --” sokka’s voice breaks through zuko’s panic. zuko flushes, and curls into a smaller ball of _shame guilt fear_. sokka sits down next to zuko, handing him a bowl of rice porridge. “my dad said you were still meditating -- i brought you breakfast.” 

“uh -- thank you?” zuko hesitates, not picking up the spoon. he looks at the food to sokka’s face, searching for any signs of pain. 

“did you eat?” he asks, trying to push the bowl back into sokka’s hands. “here, have some -- i’m not hungry.” _please eat, please take this, please please --_

“listen buddy.” zuko wants to bask in the light of the nickname, but sokka keeps talking. “i had my breakfast, okay? this is for you.”

“i haven’t done anything.” zuko mutters, confused. “why -?”

sokka hands the bowl back to zuko, pressing the spoon into his hands. “you don’t need to earn food,” sokka says, as if that’s all there is to it. 

“but i didn’t, i mean, i wasn’t at breakfast.”

“if you don’t eat this, i --” sokka frowns, struggling to come up with a witty retort, and zuko wants to wipe away the look on his face so he takes a bite. the porridge is cold and bland, but he eats another bite, and sokka’s face smoothes out. the boy leans against zuko’s shoulder, and zuko flinches before he can stop himself. sokka pulls away, and zuko wants to cry. he doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants, but it’s never stopped him from wanting before. he feels weak and pathetic and he hates himself for wanting more. 

humming under his breath, sokka leans against the column next to zuko, leaving just enough space between them that it feels like an invitation -- or a trap. zuko sits straight and stiff, terrified of reading too much into it, taking too much, being too much. he takes another bite of the porridge, barely keeping it down before he sets the bowl on the ground in front of him, and shifts into tatehiza, clutching his leg. sokka leans forward, his hair down, framing his face. they stay like that, quiet as the rain starts again. 

“are you like, scared of my dad?” sokka asks quietly after a few minutes, not looking at zuko. zuko clenches his fists, looking away from sokka as he tries to control his breathing. 

“i --”

“cause i’d get it, like -- your dad seems like a jerk.”

zuko laughs, mirthlessly. “you could say that.” he says, turning his head so his scar is in sokka’s line of vision. sokka reaches out, his hand moving the hair covering zuko’s face. zuko closes his eye, focusing on his breath as sokka traces the scar with gentle fingertips. he's never let anyone other than uncle touch his face. there’s not much feeling left in that part of his face, but he can feel faint pressure where sokka’s fingers are.

zuko’s not sure when he starts crying, but he’s shaking under sokka’s gaze. he doesn’t want to open his eyes, doesn’t want to see the disgust and horror he knows has to be on sokka’s face. someone makes a low keening moan as sokka brushes his tears away, and it takes a moment for zuko to realize that it’s him. he pulls back from the touch, flushing in shame. 

zuko opens his eye, and sokka’s face is a few inches from him. “i never thought to ask,” sokka says quietly, his fingers returning to the scar. “can you see out of this eye?”

“no.” zuko says, tucking his hair behind his ear. “and i can’t hear very well out of this ear.” he’s terrified, the only other person he’s ever told that is uncle -- he feels vulnerable, and it scares him. 

“oh wow, that -- that’s” sokka says, leaning against zuko’s shoulder -- telegraphing his movements so zuko knows he’s coming. zuko only flinches a little bit. 

“how my father shows his love.”

“wait, so when you said you told him you were leaving, this time, so he’d know it was yknow, your choice --”

“yeah.”

“then -- what was all that chasing us around the world?” 

“a lesson.” what kind of lesson it was gets caught in his throat, and he closes his eye, desperate not to cry again. “i just wanted to go home.” zuko whispers, and he can hear the wheels spinning in sokka’s head. 

“wait so your dad --”

“i was,” zuko pauses for the right word, “disrespectful.” he stares straight ahead at the rain, the cold damp soaking into his bones. “so he taught me a lesson with his hands, and then --”

“he abandoned you.” sokka finishes, his voice low. 

_because he was a worthless son._ “i was on a ship with my uncle, it was two years before the avatar returned.”

“you weren’t supposed to succeed.” sokka’s hand finds zuko’s clenched fist, and holds it. zuko shivers, sparking a flame in his palm to try to chase the rain from his bones. sokka pulls him closer, tentatively, as if zuko could disappear at any moment. “you wanna find a drier spot?” sokka asks, and zuko hesitates -- he’s already shown so much weakness, he’s not sure he can -- 

“c’mon, i bet katara is doing her water bending thing with aang,” sokka stands up, pulling his hair back in its wolf-tail. he offers a hand to zuko, who stares at it, not moving. “she’s my sister, but breakfast? not her strong suit. i uh, i think i have some jerky somewhere?” zuko takes his hand, following sokka back to the level they’ve been sleeping on. he drops sokka’s hand when they get near the others, curling in on himself. 

exhaustion hits him like a crashing wave, and he stands near the edge of the circle while sokka digs through his bag, talking low to hakoda who’s sitting by the fire. hakoda’s eyes flick to look at zuko, and zuko wants to be sick. he can’t move, can’t protect -- and then sokka is back at his side, his bag slung over his shoulder. 

“let’s go,” 

“uhhh … where?” 

“somewhere dry. c’mon, haru found this cool spot i wanted to check out.” zuko follows sokka down to a dry, mostly intact part of the living quarters, away from the rest of the group. sokka spreads a sleeping mat on the ground, and sits down, patting the mat next to him. zuko sits, trying to keep space between him and sokka _he’s already been so much, he can’t_ \-- but sokka leans against him, tossing a blanket over the two of them. he offers jerky to zuko, who chews it slowly. it's the quietest zuko has ever seen sokka be, and he slowly closes his eye, resting against sokka. 

when zuko falls asleep, head on sokka's lap, he sleeps better than he has in a long time. 


End file.
